


Absolution Never Comes

by ghotay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Death Eaters, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Male Slash, Malfoy Manor, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Romance, Slash, Smut, Young Severus Snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:06:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghotay/pseuds/ghotay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Severus Snape, following him through his years at school and the trials of growing up an outcast, to finding a family among the Death Eaters, to his betrayal of the Dark Lord and ultimate turn towards the Light. Except with one difference... What if Lily wasn't the one Snape fell in love with?</p><p>Snapecentric. Slash in the second half. Full summary inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was conceived as the backstory to a Snarry that will now probably never be written. The original idea was to have Snape's story and character as faithful to the books as possible, with the single change that he was gay. You all will have to let me know how well I succeeded in that goal.
> 
> Right now the first half of this story is complete and fully beta'd by the wonderful Snupin, but the second half is still in a rather mangled draft form, so the planned update schedule is about once a week which will hopefully give me enough time to finish the second half. There should be 21 chapters in total, give or take.
> 
> The first half is extremely Snape-centric, but the second half does contain SS/LM slash, including some M-rated stuff.
> 
> Well I think that's enough introduction. As with any writer, concrit is hugely appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy!

**Absolution Never Comes**

 

_The wind howled and raged around Severus. Tears blurred the trees around him as he thrashed forwards, and over and over his voice called out: “Dumbledore!"_

_His cries were whipped away into the howling dark. Desperate, frantic, he called out again, and again, and knew that all hope was lost._

**Part One: Boy**  
  
**Chapter One**  
  
He said goodbye to his mother and father outside the station. The last thing his mother said to him was to be careful of the muggles as he walked through the barrier. He acknowledged the warning, then his father drove off.  
  
It was what he had expected.  
  
The battered leather suitcase rattled along the paving stones behind him, the letter with the platform number on it clutched in his free hand. Platform 9¾. Right behind this pillar. He held his breath, suddenly nervous and excited, and ignored his mother’s advice as he charged into what seemed to be solid brick.  
  
The scarlet steam engine dominated the scene, shiny and bright; the low roar of a hundred voices filled his ears. He felt the charge of emotion that comes with any parting place – a mother weeping into a hug, a father placing a gruff hand on his son’s shoulder. Dozens of energetic kids, rushing away from their parents to trade summer stories with friends.  
  
But much more exciting than that was the magic he could taste on the air. People all around him were brandishing wands and tripping over owl cages, wearing wizard hats and levitating trunks. He could even see a few students already in their uniforms. He had always known this place was out there somewhere, but the vividity of its reality was beyond... anything. It was impossible to believe that he had spent his entire life so far in Spinner’s End, a wizard in muggle’s clothes, with this whole world waiting for him. Monochrome to technicolour.  
  
He cast his eye about for Lily, but her flame of hair was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was already on the train... Surrounded by families saying their last fond farewells, he felt suddenly alone, and very visible. As though someone might realise he didn't belong. He decided to board early.

Hauling the suitcase into the carriage was a struggle, but he managed it. Now, which way to head down the train. Which way was the back?  
  
“Hey, you’re a firstie too, right?” announced a voice behind him.

He turned and found he was blocking the way for a boy with an open smile and a sweep of long black hair.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” said Severus, pulling the suitcase to one side so that the boy could pass. But he carried on talking.

“My name’s Black. What's yours?”  
  
The boy had no suitcase to be seen – presumably he had already put it in a compartment somewhere.  
  
“Severus. Severus... Snape.”  
  
“Ooh, I don’t know that name. Not an old family, then?” asked the boy, starting to move down the train. Severus followed him.  
  
“My mother's a pure-blood,” said Severus.  
  
“Oh cool. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those maniacs about blood purity or whatever. Just asking. Though I’m sure my mother’d have a heart attack if she knew I’d already started ‘consorting with half-bloods’, or whatever. Ridiculous old bag.” Black had stopped outside a compartment, and Severus made to move further down the train.  
  
“Don’t be silly, come sit with us.” And he took Severus by the elbow and pulled him in. The room was empty, but two suitcases lay on the luggage rack. Severus set his beside them and sat down, unsure of what to say.  
  
“I was really happy to get my wand,” started Black out of nowhere. “'Course I’ve been in Diagon Alley before, but never Ollivander's. Though I hate to admit it, I didn’t half find him creepy!” Black pulled a length of wood from his jeans’ pocket and shook it hard. “Doesn’t do much yet. But I suppose that’s why we’re going to school, eh? Have you managed to do any magic yet?”  
  
“Sometimes, I make objects move... but that’s without meaning to.” He didn’t feel the need to mention any of the objects he had made move. They had generally been flying towards his head at high speed. Severus dragged the pads of his fingers down the wand in his own pocket, feeling the fine grain of the wood. That visit to Diagon Alley had been the first time he had ever been in a magical place. An all-wizard place. Ollivander’s had smelt like beeswax and promises. His father hadn't gone.  
  
“That’s nothing!” cried a new boy as he entered the compartment, “I was barely five before I was changing the colours of my toys, levitating when I tripped, the works. My parents never had any doubt about me,” he added, perhaps a little smugly.  
  
This new boy was addressing Black – clearly this was the owner of the second suitcase. But then he paused and turned to Severus, holding out his hand. “I’m James Potter, by the way.” Severus returned the gesture a little limply before Potter turned back to Black and began an amusing anecdote about a toy broomstick.  
  
Their conversation continued a little in this vein, each of Potter and Black telling stories of their underage magical antics while Severus listened. Then a trolley arrived, dripping with chocolates, sweets and treats of every kind. The fact that Severus had no money was somehow overlooked, and he ended up with a pumpkin pasty and a pair of chocolate frogs. The conservation lapsed as they munched, until Potter said suddenly to Black:  
  
“Say, what house do you think you’d be in?”  
  
Black considered this a moment before saying with a slightly disgusted look on his face; “Well, my whole family have been in Slytherin, bu-”  
  
“No!” gasped Potter, “And you seemed like an alright guy. I would never’ve pegged you for a snake! _My_ family have all been in Gryffindor. At least ten generations.”  
  
“My mother was in Slytherin,” murmured Severus. The two boys’ eyes swivelled towards him and he fought to keep down a blush.  
  
“Well – she was.”  
  
Black clapped him on the back. “Well, I won’t hold that against you! Because, as I had been about to say before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I don’t like the sound of Slytherin at all. Growing up in a whole clan of them, they’re just a bunch of bloodline-obsessed, slimy, conniving little... Well, I suppose it could just be my family. I can hardly believe I’m related to them sometimes, you know. I mean, look at me. I’m clearly much too dashing and brilliant to be put in with that lot. No, I was thinking of going against family tradition and disappointing the hell out of my dear old mum. She’ll be livid.”  
  
Potter laughed. “The lot of us for Gryffindor, then! You can join onto my family tradition instead. I’m an only child, there’s plenty of room.”  
  
“You know, I’m not sure I’d want to be related to you,” said Black. “Are the rest of your family all so ugly?”  
  
And then they were all laughing – young and lighthearted. Like old friends. It was suddenly easy – to imagine laughing like this. On and on.  
  
\--  
  
The rest of the train ride passed quickly amongst the chatting and joking. Black and Potter were quite loud and they talked about things that Severus didn’t know about, but he found that he didn’t mind so very much. As night began to fall they each changed into their robes. Black and Potter’s were clearly new. Severus only hoped that his own tatty hems wouldn’t show too much in the dark. He would have to learn a spell to fix them.  
  
The train arrived at Hogsmeade and they pushed onto the crowded platform. Most of the students were moving off in groups towards carriages, but a gruff voice was calling out: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” Severus followed the direction of the cry, but was somehow separated from Black and Potter in the darkness and rush. He found himself pushed into a boat opposite a clearly terrified boy with curly hair and, next to him –  
  
Lily. And her green eyes that shone in the night.  
  
The boats were small but sturdy and Severus found that he felt quite safe, and much too excited to feel the cold. They slid over the surface of the water and it was rough and windy, but the sky was lit with stars and Lily’s eyes. “I can’t believe we’re finally here,” she said as Hogwarts came into view. Severus didn’t have the breath to agree.  
  
The castle was magnificent – each of its turrets framed against the sky like daggers to heaven. It seemed to have hundreds of windows. The number of rooms – of treasures and secrets it must contain. Severus thought of the books he had read as a child of fantasy worlds and magical places, and found that they hardly compared to the real thing. He looked down at the surface of the lake and felt a twist of anger in his gut that this had all been denied him for so long. That he had been raised as a muggle, in that muggle house, on that muggle street... But then he raised his eyes to the lit windows again and felt a greater calm pass over him.  
  
_It’s real. For us._  
  
They were ushered from the lakeside into an entrance hall – all of them small and eager, illuminated by flaming torches on all sides. A tall woman who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall told them to wait until they were ready to be sorted. She left, and they waited.  
  
Severus and Lily found themselves next to Potter and Black again. They appeared to have found two new boys on their boat. One, a thin, brown-haired boy who looked about as nervous as Severus was beginning to feel, and a short, slightly chubby boy who was visibly sweating with anticipation. Or perhaps he had been splashed by the lake, it was difficult to tell.  
  
Potter and Black were talking loudly – not so loudly as before, but Severus now found it bothersome. Didn't they realise how important this moment was?  
  
_My mother was in Slytherin._  
  
He’d never put much thought to the idea of being Sorted. Finally arriving at Hogwarts had been too large an idea to think beyond. If he had thought anything at all, it might have been a vague assumption that he would be in Slytherin. But his mother had talked so little about magic and her own schooldays that he hardly knew what to think. And the looks on Potter and Black's faces when they had mentioned Slytherin... The idea of being Sorted was starting to make him feel sick. Lily said something to him – some curious, innocent thought, but Severus couldn’t focus.  
  
Too soon the tall woman came back and they were being led into the Great Hall. Four table’s worth of students turned to look at them and Severus stared reflexively at the floor, totally unaware of the the spectacular enchanted ceiling above him.  
  
A hat was there, at the top of the hall. On a stool. It began to sing.  
  
Severus heard the four houses described, each with their virtues celebrated as equally worthy. He wondered how that could be, when they were all so different. But more troubling, he just couldn’t see where he belonged. He wasn’t brave, or cunning. Perhaps Ravenclaw? But being good at muggle schoolwork might not mean anything here. Perhaps he would be terrible at magic. Hufflepuff, then?  
  
The hat’s song came to an end and he applauded with leaden hands. The first person was called up – Abigail Antworthy. She put the hat on, and after a moment it bellowed RAVENCLAW. One of the tables seemed delighted – yelling and beckoning and stamping their feet.  
  
Black was next. The call of “GRYFFINDOR!” across the room created another tidal wave of cheers. He went to sit down with his house, giving Potter a double thumbs-up as he went.  
  
A few more people, then Lily. Gryffindor, almost instantly. Of course. The brown-haired boy. The chubby boy. Potter. All Gryffindors. His name was called. _Snape, Severus._  
  
Three tottery steps up to the stool. Hundreds of people in the hall.  
  
The hat fell over his eyes and the darkness of its inside was calming. The hum of voices from the Hall was muted and this, too, was calming. He almost didn’t want to take it off and be confronted with all those eyes – all of whom would soon know who he truly was.  
  
His hands gripped the sides of the stool. His mind went blank.  
  
“SLYTHERIN!”  
  
The hat was removed and the table on the right of the Hall was whooping and cheering. A tall blonde boy with a gleaming Prefect badge smiled at him benevolently.  
  
He was practically pushed towards his new table to make way for the next child to be Sorted. He stumbled as he went and, almost involuntarily, turned to look at the Gryffindor table.  
  
Potter was looking at him with an expression of puzzlement which, even as Severus watched, turned to one of deepest loathing. Black’s eyes were inscrutable. The two boys whose names he did not know looked at him openly, almost curious, and yet not quite. There was a wall there. They knew.  
  
He turned, as a last hope, to look at Lily. Her green eyes glittered with nothing but pity.  
  
He sat down and turned his eyes to the empty plate before him. The light of a thousand candles shone in its golden surface while a dozen hands clapped him on the back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**   
  
Severus was struggling through the crowds on the Hogwarts Express. Why anyone would be so happy to go home, he had no idea. He was trying to make his way to the back of train and the last few empty compartments, but the jubilance of the rest of the school made them careless as to where they put their elbows, and progress was slow.  
  
A door slid open next to him and Lupin stepped on his feet.  
  
“Oh, erm – sorry,” said Lupin, and turned back into the compartment, quickly shutting the door behind him. The carriage, of course, was occupied by all of the self-styled ‘Marauders’. There was Potter, two first year girls fawning pathetically along with – oh dear. Pettigrew, practically at his feet. No doubt giggling at some idiotic joke Potter had just told. And next to him was Black. Naturally. Drinking in the attention, relaxed back in his seat with that tomcat grin.  
  
If their egos got any more inflated they would probably explode.  
  
He continued down the train, mind-boggled as ever that girls seemed to find being on the Quidditch team in second year so terribly impressive. Though judging by an explosive argument he had witnessed in the charms corridor, Lily at least did not seem to easily bought by sporting success and good looks. And Lupin wasn't so bad. He was quiet, and intelligent. Severus almost thought they could have got along, if not for the rest of the Marauders. And between that lot and Severus... well, whatever.  
  
He finally fought his way through the crowded train to an empty compartment in the penultimate carriage. He dumped his bookbag on the seat and took the window seat, craning his neck to try and glimpse the castle's towers. He knew he couldn’t; he had tried last year.  
  
The train started moving and he settled into a charms book he had ‘borrowed’ from the library. It hadn’t been too difficult to break the anti-theft charm which was, ironically, one of the charms taught in the book. His bag was filled with other books liberated in this fashion, in the hope that they would make the long summer pass more quickly. It's not like they would be missed, and he would return them when he returned.  
  
Severus lost himself easily to the intricacies of charmwork, and was unsurprised though nevertheless relieved that no one attempted to join him in his compartment. This far back the train was quiet and that suited him nicely.  
  
Around lunchtime other students began to chase each other up and down the corridors and stop for conversation between compartments. It became noisier, to the point where Severus was finding it hard to concentrate. Finally, a shriek right outside his door caused him to slam his book down. He glared at the sunny countryside that scudded by.  
  
“Stupid _Potter_ and his _girlfriends_ ,” he muttered resentfully at the misty glass. “Thinks he’s so good at _Quidditch_.”  
  
“Well, you’ve got to admit, he’s not _awful_ on a broom,” announced a voice  
  
Severus jumped at the interruption. He restrained himself from jumping again when he saw who was striding confidently into his compartment.  
  
Lucius Malfoy, seventh year, subject of adoration and obsession for much of the female population of Slytherin House. Flanked, as ever, by Crabbe and Goyle. He settled down comfortably opposite Severus, who said nothing.  
  
“Not that I haven’t managed to knock him off it a few times,” smirked Malfoy.  
  
Of course. Malfoy was one of the Slytherin chasers. Almost as bad as Potter, the great cocky twerp.  
  
“Oh don’t glare so, Snape,” said Malfoy expansively. “This is the only compartment left that isn’t swarming with Gryffindors and screaming children.”  
  
This couldn’t possibly be true as Malfoy must have been sitting somewhere for the past two hours. Severus’ instinctive suspicion deepened. Nevertheless, when the opportunity to gripe about the Marauders presented itself...  
  
“You’d hardly believe they were purebloods – the way Black and Potter lap up those mudblood girls. Thinking they’re so good because of Quidditch, and teachers thinking their cocky little faces are worth listening to,” a bite of hatred forced its way through his voice. “And that Pettigrew is frankly pathetic. The way he sucks up to those two. It’s a disgrace. And I’m _very_ suspicious of Remus Lupin. All those absences –”  
  
Only at that moment did Severus realise that Malfoy was looking at him oddly. As if he were trying to read something near the edge of his vision, or weighing up some difficult odds.  
  
“They’re just arrogant and lazy, that’s all I’m saying,” said Severus, clutching the worn strap of his bag.  
  
A moment passed.  
  
“Crabbe. Goyle. Leave us.”  
  
They left immediately, as though someone had jerked their puppet strings. Severus was confused, but his wand was in his pocket. And his bag was heavy enough with books. His breathing was measured.  
  
Lucius leaned forwards onto the table between them. “Severus, I can see that you’re a talented young wizard – ”  
  
“Don’t insult me with false flattery, Malfoy.”  
  
“It’s far from false. But I see you are not to be distracted with cheap words. Very well, I would expect no less. And please,” he added graciously, “Call me Lucius.”  
  
There was nothing to say to this. Severus stared at the older boy.

Lucius smiled. “Tell me, Severus, do you have any fondness for muggles?”  
  
“No! Why should I? They’re – they’re common, and lazy, and think they’re better than us when they’re not!”  
  
“Quite. And muggle-borns?”  
  
“I... well – ”  
  
“Ah, your hesitancy reveals you! You must see, must you not, that muggle-borns are just as bad, if not worse than muggles. That weak, arrogant muggle blood runs through their veins, and yet they call themselves wizards! _You_ are pure-blood, of course?”  
  
“I – yes –”  
  
“Good,” purred Lucius. A flat light seemed to shine in his grey eyes.

“Severus... do you know that there is a plague spreading through the wizarding world? A pox, a _disease_ , that is slowly infecting each and every one of us who is not absolutely vigilant. We wizards are slowly being weakened. Brought down by our own kind. Diluted.” Severus's grip on the edge of the table tightened just a fraction. “I am of course referring to the insidious contamination of our magic, our minds, our blood, by muggle-loving attitudes. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?” Before he could respond, Lucius went on. “I know you do. The way those soft fools like Dumbledore teach us to cater to their needs. Ridiculous things we are taught – _muggle studies_ ; they expect us to learn their ways so we can live in peace and harmony. We are taught that muggles are _equal_ to us. What do you think?”

This one really did seem to require an answer.

He remembered how, growing up, the boys on his street would play football by the canal. But he was never allowed to play. They jeered and threw stones at him if he came close. He remembered Lily, when they had been friends. Her parents had been very nice to him, and let him in for tea occasionally. But she never spoke to him any more. They would never invite him round for tea again.

He thought about the summer he was about to go home to. The shouting, the throwing. In that house he was a nothing.

What had any muggles ever done for him?

Severus looked down and frowned. “They can't do what we can do... Why should we have to treat them equally?”

He looked up into Lucius's smiling eyes.

“Exactly. I knew you saw it too. Wizards are born to rule over muggles just as man is born to rule over beasts. They are sheep to us.”

Lucius paused, and another peculiar look passed across his face. The first sign of hesitation that this incredibly self-possessed older boy had displayed.

“Severus, have you ever heard of the one they call...” and Lucius mouthed two words.  
  
 _Lord Voldemort_.  
  
Severus's breath caught. “I’ve heard... heard things.”  
  
And indeed there had always been whispers. Older Slytherins, muttering in corners together. Secret things. Adult things.

“Then perhaps you have heard that he has a great vision for the wizarding world. No, for the whole world... There is no right and wrong, Severus – just power, and those too weak to seek it. The Dark Lord sees the weakness in this world – in the Ministry, in the people who govern this world, and he is disgusted. And you see it too. The way mudbloods and muggles gallivant as though they were equal to the rest of us. The Dark Lord seeks to make a better, wiser world for those who are _deserving_.” Severus became suddenly aware of a great thundering in his chest. This was the explanation he had been waiting for, and never known it. He had always known he deserved more. More than abuse, than being ignored. The world had wronged him and this – this was why.

“He has a following. An army. We call ourselves the Death Eaters.”

“He's going to... fix the world?”

“That's exactly what he's going to do. The Dark Lord has great plans, plans only now being set in motion, but which soon the whole world will know about. And by then there will be only with him... or against him. Of course, great things can only be achieved by _great_ wizards –”

“I could do it,” interrupted Severus, reacting solely to the note of doubt that had crept into the older Slytherin’s voice.

“I know you could. I did not choose you randomly, Severus. You have great potential, great ambition. You would be a great asset to the Dark Lord. He is the greatest of all of us. And he rewards his followers very handsomely. I only ask... Would you join us?”

The compartment was bright in the summer sun. The fields were dappled with the shadows of wispy clouds that floated lazily across the sky. Kestrels no doubt swooped majestically above the English countryside in search of rabbits. Cows chewed pensively whilst badgers dug their sets. Somewhere, there were people getting married, having arguments, going on holiday.  
  
In this compartment, there was Lucius.

Severus’s mouth felt dry.  
  
“Severus, this is the greatest opportunity you will ever receive in your life. I am offering you the chance to join the army that will rule the world.” A brightness grew in Lucius's eyes, “A chance to serve the greatest wizard who has ever lived, and seize the power you have deserved since you were born with magical blood running through your veins. You would be thanked forever as one of those who changed the world – saved it. In the ranks of the Dark Lord. And for all that – such great and fabulous rewards, do you know what he asks for? All he asks for?”  
  
“N – no...”  
  
“ _Loyalty_. Just loyalty. Strength, power, respect – you have great potential to possess all of these things, and the Dark Lord will help you. Just tell me, Severus. Are you willing to be loyal?”  
  
“But I’m so... I’m only a Second Year.”  
  
“I know that. And there are others, older than you, who are already preparing to join. But you will be in your Third Year next year, and you will have a long time at Hogwarts in which you could help the Dark Lord. I ask you again: are you willing to be loyal?”  
  
A thousand thoughts rushed through his head. Right and wrong? But who was right, anyway? Beating a child with a belt wasn’t right. Hexing someone’s nose off wasn’t right. Where were right and wrong when he needed them? There is only power...  
  
“What’s the catch?”  
  
Lucius banged his fist down on the table, making Severus start. “Severus, I thought better of you. I would not deceive you. And just as there is no room for weakness in the Dark Lord’s ranks, there is no room for uncertainty either. If you cannot reply in an absolute affirmative, I have no use for you.”

Lucius was there: bold, terrifying, confident. He was going to take _action_ . Why had he, Severus, never taken any action? Taken the cruelties of life as they came, and never resisted? He could be _great_...

Lucius’ eyes scanned his face as, at last, the young Slytherin looked up from his lap.

“Yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Severus ran over the words of Lucius's final promise again and again, until they were as familiar to him as his own name.  
  
 _“Go home and wa_ _it_ _for my owl. Sometime in July, I will send for you and you will come to Malfoy Manor. Do not attempt to come before. There I will tell you what I need you to do, and you will begin your service to the Dark Lord.”_  
  
This dream carried him like a bubble through the drive home. The dank, depressing air in the house, breathed out in anger and abandoned to stagnation, seemed thinner. The ceaseless arguments from downstairs seemed quieter. This family knitted from cruelty and neglect, didn't matter so much any more. And rather than longing for the familiar comforts of the castle, as he had all of last summer, Severus dreamed instead of Lucius's letter.

Because now he knew. He knew how things were, and he knew what to do. He knew what he had always felt instinctively – that there was a terrible injustice in the world that needed to be cleansed to afford him the respect he deserved. He had something above Hogwarts, beyond magic – more powerful than any spell, more heady than any potion. There were greater things out there. Forces, moving silently, that he could become a part of.

He had a _purpose_.

The sun was low in the sky; a small, watery blob threatening to droop below the horizon at any moment. It cast the windowsills of the narrow houses in a sombre ochre light and reflected off their cracked panes into a young boy's eyes.

Severus was kicking a brick.

He had kicked this brick all the way from the canal via a circuitous route that had taken him down down three streets, two alleys and across one railway line. The ability to perform such a feat without suffering terrifically sore toes was one of the few advantages of having boots several sizes too big.

It had been three weeks now. More. Three weeks and three days. Lucius hadn't owled.

Not so much as a note. A whisper. A hint.

In a spasm of frustration Severus kicked the brick across the street at a passing cat. He knew the animal had plenty of time to avoid the ill-intentioned block of ceramic and so it did, darting under a nearby hedge.

Source of amusement lost – or at least now too far away to retrieve without an unacceptable level of effort – Severus huffed down onto the curb, his jumper settling around him in the dust.

The summer was more than half over. And the further time drew away from that defining moment when Lucius had made his promise, the more unbearable things became.

Tobias Snape had missed his son. The long months with only Eileen to torment had only fuelled his anger – her increasing passivity was clearly frustrating him. The way her eyes deadened the second he touched her. Severus usually knew how to avoid angering his father. Most of it was avoidance – don't be seen, don't be heard, don't leave any sign that you were in the room. But when he heard the man's heavy tread coming up the stairs, yelling as he came, then he was helpless. Sometimes, if he was lucky, his father would get into a talking mood, and if Severus could keep him happy he only had to listen to the same old rambling, long, and confused reminiscences. Most of which were self-inflating lies, or stories that had rattled apart over the years, the truth ever further obscured by the fog of alcohol in his brain.

If not...

Severus shook his head, not wishing to dwell on it.

His mother never yelled. Silent when her husband was in the room, then when he left she would snipe and snit. Little things that tore at the corners of his heart, made him feel more useless, more helpless. "Put away your dishes would you? Or shall I, since you don't love your mother anyway", "Oh you go up to your room, just leave me here, it's not like I matter." And yet that was still better than her softer moods. When she would wheedle and whine and make apologies and excuses for her husband. Severus felt a quiet clench of anger through his body. Those excuses were the reason he could never forgive her. The reason he –

He stopped that train of thought too. Thinking about his mother was painful. But thinking about Lucius was painful too, and Hogwarts was a long way away, and there was dinner to face: over-boiled vegetables seasoned with resentment, condiments passed without eye contact, tap water for two and whiskey for one. He didn't want to go home, he really didn't. But he had nowhere else to go. And better to turn up now than after dark. He'd made that mistake before.

The boy picked himself up off the floor and traversed the final hundred metres to his front door.

Severus hung out of the window of his attic room, bored to tears.

Nearly four weeks now, and things had become clear. Lucius was not going to send him an owl. He was not going to send him a letter, or a note, or an invitation to Malfoy Manor. Lucius was not, in fact, going to send him anything at all. This was because he was a bad person.

Strangely enough, it had not been a difficult conclusion to come to. It had just suddenly become very clear to him. He had no one. His parents could barely stand the sight of him, he had no friends, and now Lucius was not going to write to him. He had never been good enough. The world was punishing him. As no doubt he deserved.

A feathery seed floated by on the lifeless air and Severus plucked it from its aerial journey. He sighed and pulled himself off the windowsill, then locked his feet under the bed frame and leant his back against the sill so that he could inspect the terraced roofs and broken chimney pots from upside-down.

He held the little seed above his head and turned it over in his hands. When they had been small, Lily had taught him to wish on things like these. He had always wished for the same things. Simple things. Hugs. Laughter.

There was a time back when he thought if only he were better, things could be different. If he could be a better son then maybe his parents would remember why they married each other, and fall back in love. If he didn't make father angry so much, then he and mother wouldn't argue so much and then maybe mother would be nicer to him. And then maybe if he lived in a nice house with a happy family Lily could come over and they could be friends again, just like before. Maybe. But mother was never nice and father was always angry and Lily hadn't spoken to him in years. Not since he'd been sorted into Slytherin.

So what was there left to wish for? Severus sat up. Probably nothing.

But it was so hard, being thirteen. All alone.

_I wish for someone. Anyone._

And he surrendered his dreams to the sky.

Severus awoke to the sounds of indignant hooting.

As soon as he was awake enough to process this, he leapt to the open window and feverishly tore a scrap of paper from the leg of an irritated eagle owl.

A single line.

_Tomorrow. Come in the morning. Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire._

Severus thought his heart would burst.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating, time makes fools of us all! Things should hopefully be back on schedule from now

**Chapter Four**

Severus Snape had been wide awake since dawn. It felt like the sun was being deliberately slow in rising, and his battered alarm clock was definitely ticking slower than usual. Every book he owned now contained only the interminable witterings of senile old men.

Today was the day that he was going to go to Malfoy Manor. This very morning. He had been invited. He was going to see Lucius.

He didn't know how he was going to get there.

The truth was that, simmering under the thick carpet of boredom and itchy anxiety, was a deep, frothing terror. He could not ask permission. He had no money for a train or bus, even if he had known which one to take. He couldn't very well walk.

He had turned it over a thousand times and knew there were no alternatives – he would have to take the floo. An idea far easier conceived than carried out. As far as he was aware, the floo in their house had not been used during his entire lifetime. He did not know why his mother had connected their fireplace to the network at all, assuming the house had not simply been bought that way. Though that had always struck him as unlikely, as it was a Muggle neighbourhood. And yet, he had only heard his mother mention the floo twice, and only in passing. Both times it had led to... _an argument_ , Severus thought forcefully. Not allowing himself to think the words for what his father really did.

Muggles. There was nothing domestic about it.

He knew the theory behind how to use the floo but he had never actually travelled by fireplace before, nor even witnessed one in use. He knew that they had floo powder, though, and that was a relief. His father had knocked over the little urn once whilst staggering out of his chair and Severus had seen his mother discreetly regather the green powder some hours later.

As his alarm clock crept towards half eight, he decided to station himself at the top of the narrow staircase. From there he could easily watch the living room door without being visible from the rest of the house. His plan was to wait for his father to leave the living room, then make a dash for it. There was always the chance that his parents would notice his absence and punish him, but then there was always that chance irrespective of what he did. His father usually got up to have a coffee – with a generous tot of whiskey – by about 9 o'clock, so Severus was confident enough that he could escape undetected.

By 9:30, he was growing desperate. His father's snores continued rumbling from the sitting room. Severus could see the scene clearly in his mind's eye – his father slumped in the old brown armchair, half-empty bottle by his side.

His father was _usually_ up by nine. But he could easily sleep in until noon.

A painful knot of panic began to grow in Severus's chest as his brain scrambled for other options. But he didn't own a broom, there were no other wizarding families whose floo he could use, he could hardly sneak up to the fireplace as the noise would undoubtedly wake his father up...

 _Except he could_.

He could walk straight through the room and disappear right in front of him. There was no way his father would have time enough to stop him.

In fact, what was stopping him?

He knew what it was. Fear. Fear of pain. Of the dread of having to return home and knowing what awaits you at the door. Fear, above all else, of the anticipation. Of standing on the doorstep. Uncertainty – what will happen this time? How bad will it be? How much will it hurt?

Weakness. Nothing but weakness.

_No room for weakness in the Dark Lord's ranks._

Inflated by this thought, Severus moved before his nerve failed him. He scrambled down the steps, stopping silently, flat against the wall across from the living room door. A single heart beat's worth of hesitation.

He propelled himself off the wall and burst through the door, eliciting a great cry from his father which modulated from surprise to anger even as Severus dashed across the room.

He scudded to his knees and reached for the magical powder but managed instead to upset the pot –

"You stupid – !" bellowed Tobias, not comprehending what his son was about to do, jerking up from the armchair.

Severus's heart, already pumping on pure adrenaline, jolted in his chest. He snatched up a handful of floo powder from the carpet and threw it into the fireplace, screaming: "MALFOY MANOR," as he leapt headfirst into the emerald flames. The last thing he felt was his father's hand around his leg – he kicked out instinctively even as the magic span round his head and whizzed him away.

His elbows were the first part of his body to acquaint themselves with Malfoy Manor. Namely, its hard marble floors, made negligibly more hospitable by the addition of a hearth rug. The next piece of information came from his ears, whose first impression was that his father had somehow followed him through the floo as there was still a great deal of shouting going on.

"–Think that's going to solve everything, do you?"

Severus's pulse and breathing steadied as his eyes focused and allowed him to take in the hall around him. The colour scheme seemed to be various shades of dark: dark stone slabs, a dark green rug, surrounded by dark wood-panelled walls hung with dark oil paintings of grim-faced old men. Previous Malfoys through the centuries, he supposed.

The angry voice continued its tirade: "You are a foolish, foolish child. Do you know that your cousin Caspar achieved exactly _double_ the number of acceptable grades I am currently looking at? Frankly I am ashamed to call you my son, I –"

Severus got up off the floor and dusted himself off. Only now did it occur to him that he was dressed in entirely muggle clothes, and poorly-fitting ones at that. The scale of the house made him very ill at ease.

He traversed the width of the hall and reached the door from behind which the voices – for a second voice now seemed to be putting up its defence – were emanating.

"–Just don't understand! You have no idea, just no idea what you are saying! Who you are dismissing! There is change in the world, father, and you could end up on the wrong –"

"Change! The only change I'd like to see in this world is a change in these grades! I hardly think – !"

Severus gently pushed on the door to peer at the occupants of the room. He could just see what must surely be Lucius's back – the long blond hair could belong to no one else, but the other speaker was still beyond his crack of vision. He pushed just a little more...

The door gave an almighty creak and Lucius whirled whip-fast at the noise. The next moment the door was yanked fully open by the other speaker. Severus found himself nose-to-chest with a tall man in magnificent charcoal robes. He looked up and found a stern, moustached face and piercing grey eyes looking at him accusatorially.

"Well?" demanded the man who could only be Malfoy Senior.

Severus stepped back. "I – I'm sorry, it's just that –"

"I'm sorry, father," said Lucius, "this is Severus Snape. I asked him to come."

Malfoy turned to his son and strode back into the room, leaving Severus awkwardly in the doorway.

"And you did not think to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, father. I only owled him yesterday. I was going to tell you, but then the NEWTs came and –"

"And revealed what a lazy, complacent, useless _blob_ I have for a son?"

Lucius stared hard at the ground and offered no resistance. His face was blank, but in a way that Severus recognised. It was a blankness of control, not lack of emotion.

Malfloy Senior rounded alarmingly on Severus. "Look at this," he commanded, thrusting a piece of paper in Severus's face and withdrawing it before he could read anything. "A miserable excuse for a set of grades. What do you make of that?"

"I – I –" stuttered Severus.

"And do you know what he's going to do now? He's going to go _travelling_. That's right, travelling. A Malfoy son and heir, and he's off to do some nimby-pamby travelling. To what end, one may ask? Change the bleeding world, he says!" Lucius changed the corner of the room he was staring into as his father alternated between yelling at his son and terrifying the poor boy that had wandered into their house.

"How do you propose to do that, O son of mine?"

"I've told you before –" muttered Lucius.

"Oh yes, your Dark Lord. Man of mystery. Going to eliminate all the mudbloods. Well I've not seen hide nor hair of the cur, and you know what this sounds like to me? A grand excuse to avoid going into the ministry, getting a wife and doing your DUTY as my SON AND HEIR! I am not leaving you a KNUT, a KNUT, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Flecks of spittle flew from the man's mouth as he screamed in his son's face. Lucius remained staring resolutely at the floor.

"Get out."

Lucius moved past his father as quickly as possible without running and grabbed Severus by the elbow, pulling him back into the hall.

They went up two grand staircases before Lucius dragged him into a room and shut the door, then released his elbow, strode to the window on the other side of the room, and stood there quite still.

They must be in Lucius's bedroom. It was sumptuous in décor, and yet still somehow bare and impersonal; the bed, wardrobe and dresser all entirely devoid of personal touches. The only sign of habitation was a locked trunk resting by the door.

"I am sorry about that."

Severus said nothing and after another moment Lucius turned away from the window and back towards Severus. A new expression was on his face – one of anticipation, almost.

"You doubted me, didn't you? Doubted that I would owl?"

"Well, yes," conceded Severus, and before he could continue Lucius interrupted:

"I don't blame you. I had intended to write earlier, but things..." a shadow passed briefly over the older boy's face before clearing. "Never mind. You're here now. And you can doubt me. Just don't – _don't_ doubt the Dark Lord..." Lucius turned to look at his trunk. "I'm going to join the Death Eaters. I know where they are and I will be with the Dark Lord soon. You must realise what your role is to be?"

In fact, Severus had given this a great deal of thought, but every time had drawn a blank. What possible part could he play in the changing of the world from the confines of the castle, unable to do magic unsupervised, even.

He shook his head.

"You, Severus, are to be the new recruiting officer in Hogwarts."

"I – what?"

"What I want you to do is look out for people who can help our cause. As I found you, I want you to find others. Intelligent people with ambition. Powerful wizards. Those who will be useful. Find them and tell them."

"But I don't know anyone –"

"That is why you will _find_ them!" shouted Lucius suddenly. "I'm sorry... the point is, you will be at Hogwarts for another five years. In that time many more Slytherins will join the school. Of those, many will be idiots, or muggle-loving fools, or otherwise useless. But some is enough. Just find them. You will do this for me?"

Severus looked hard into Lucius's slate-coloured eyes, set in his pale face above high, aristocratic cheekbones and below elegantly shaped eyebrows. Long limbs and sleek hair.

"Of course."

Lucius smiled. "Excellent. The other thing I want you to do is look up these books."

He grabbed a scrap of paper from the top of the dresser and handed it to Severus, who scanned the list.

_On the Blackest Arts_  
 _Dark Magic for the Dark Wizard_  
 _Execrable Incantations for those of Evile Intent_

And a few others.

"But these are all... I won't be able to get these. They're d-dark magic?"

Lucius took one long step towards him and grasped Severus by the wrist, looking at him intently.

"What did I tell you? There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Dark magic is magic like any other. Powerful magic, Severus. Powerful." Lucius released his wrist and stepped back, seemingly taking the air in Severus's lungs with him. "They're in the restricted section, but if that proves too great an obstacle for you... well you'd hardly be worth my bothering with."

"I can do it," gasped Severus.

Lucius gave him a strange smile. "Good."

"Finally, I want you to find two boys called Avery and Mulciber. They'll be going into Fourth Year, do you know them?"

"By sight, I think."

"They are sons of Death Eaters. They know of the Dark Lord and they, too, will enter into his service. They will be useful to you. Tell them I sent you."

"Okay."

"I am leaving my owl to the Hogwarts owlery. You will recognise him?"

"Yes, I... I think so."

"Be sure," commanded Lucius.

Severus strained to think of the markings around the owl's eyes; on its wings... "Yes. Yes, I know him."

"He will be able to find me. You can use him to keep me updated. And should you need anything..."

"Yes?"

"You need only write."

The thought that Lucius would only ever be a letter away was a strangely warm comfort, and Severus couldn't help but let a smile creep onto his face.

Lucius eyed him evenly.

"You will be great, Severus Snape."

And in that moment, he believed it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Severus returned to school filled with a sense of hope and clarity that he had never had before. He was no more popular and no less introverted than before, but there was a new aspect about him. He finally had a foundation on which to base some confidence. And the bruises he earnt from his visit to Malfoy Manor had faded fast.

His first goal was to get the books from the Restricted Section, and then he would see about Avery and Mulciber. He told himself that this was because the books were a priority, but being honest with himself he knew it was because he was afraid of them. Since starting term he had kept an eye out for the hulking pair – they seemed to keep mostly to themselves and skulk in a particular corner of the common room, but he didn't know how he would even start a conversation, let alone how to 'recruit' them. So he began with the books.

The easiest thing to do would be to simply ask his Head of House for a pass for the Restricted Section. Slughorn had always praised his potions ability, so Severus naturally thought that the man might overlook his age and grant him access to a few dubious spellbooks. He was surprised verging on shocked, therefore, when Slughorn flatly turned him down. No explanation was given and no appeal seemed to dent the man's refusal. After this initial reaction Severus decided against asking another teacher.

Plan B, then, was to sneak into the library at night. Being out of bed after ten was and always had been a detention-worthy offence, and some small part of his brain rankled against the idea of marring his perfect school record, but Severus knew he had to risk it. Someone who couldn't break a few rules wouldn't be much use to the Dark Lord. Then again someone who got caught even less so. So he would just have to not get caught.

He chose a Friday night so that he would not be tired for lessons the next morning, and at ten o'clock sat in the common room and waited for it to empty. The hour grew late and the clock seemed to drag but there were still plenty of students around. He began to regret choosing a Friday. Usually the common room would be empty by half eleven, but on the eve of weekend there were still over a dozen people staying up and chatting. It wasn't too bad; he was fond of eavesdropping. Sometimes he even heard something interesting, though not tonight.

Finally at one o'clock the last few students went to bed, and Severus slipped out of the door. Teachers patrolled the corridors at night looking for miscreants, so he padded quickly down the corridor, wearing only socks for extra stealth. The path to the library was long, and at first he was jumpy, starting at every half-imagined noise. He was particularly afraid of the idea that he might run into Peeves. He may as well give himself detention for the year if that happened. But as the minutes went by he relaxed and began to appreciate the solitude. He had never realised how beautifully empty the castle was so late at night. The ceilings seems to high. Some of the torches were kept burning all night long, casting flickering shadows along the length of the corridors. Stars sparkled coldly in through the slim elegant windows. Occasional ghosts drifted by, engaged in their ghostly concerns. He thought he might have caught a glimpse of the tail of a mouse whipping behind a statue. But beyond that – total stillness.

More beautiful perhaps even than the stillness was the near-silence. Of course Hogwarts was never truly silent – the building was filled with students and teachers and animals and magical objects of all sorts constantly making the small sounds that meant they were still alive. And those myriad tiny night-noises percolated through the stone, creating that gentle thrum – now dormant, but soon to burst into vibrancy with the sunrise. The whole castle felt like one living organism, resting. He wished he could experience it more often.

Severus was on the third floor, only a handful of turns away from the library, when a light appeared in the corridor to his left. He threw himself around a corner and peered back into the corridor. It was a wandlight, bobbing towards him. He squinted with night-blind eyes at the darkly moving shape behind the light. Oh no. Professor McGonagall.

He scraped his eyes around the corridor in search of a hiding place. Thank Merlin, there was a statue only a few paces away. He paced as quietly and quickly as he could and wedged himself behind Fulbert the Fearful cowering from a rabbit, just as McGonagall turned the corner. He breathed in slowly and hugely as she walked straight past him, and on down the hallway. He waited until she had made her next turn, and then extricated himself from behind the statue and continued down the corridor behind her, in the direction of the library. Only to find that McGonagall was heading the same way. He had a moment of internal panic, and quickly resolved to follow her. After all if she was going to the library and he took another route he only risked running into her again from another direction. So he followed her from a safe distance, always keeping a turn behind her. It wasn't long before she passed right by the doors to the library, and Severus slipped inside.

The rope that cordoned off the Restricted Section had always seemed as real a barrier as a wall. Barely an inch thick, and yet insurmountable. In daytime, at least. Severus stepped over it.

Severus walked slowly among the bookshelves, running his hands over the crooked spines of the books he passed. A library within a library. A whole new wealth of information. Libraries were a source of wonder to him, and a little note of bittersweet. He wanted to read them all. Books, especially old ones, had always possessed a near esoteric quality to Severus. The potential of the knowledge they contained lured him in. But these books were not only thick and heavy and old – they were _illicit_. His fingers lingered on a few of the tomes... but he resisted the temptation to to take any others with him. He had a purpose here.

The Dark books didn't take long to find, they were all in a row together. He wondered which previous student had been given this same assignment. Gathering them up in his arms, Severus made for the exit. As he stepped over the rope, he overbalanced slightly and the top book tumbled out of his arms and landed on its spine with a loud _crack_!

"What was that?" murmured a slimy voice from between the bookshelves.

_Filch_.

Severus frantically dropped down to pick up the errant book, but another two fell from his grasp. _Why_ hadn't he brought a bag?

"A student out of bed!" exclaimed Filch, now audibly closer.

Severus panicked completely, dropped all of the books and grabbed his wand from his pocket.

" _Wingardium leviosa!_ "

The books were propelled jerkily into the air, and Severus ran, directing his wand to fly the books ahead of him. He chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Filch back between the bookshelves, oil lamp swinging as he gave chase.

Severus turned back and redoubled his speed, instantly rebuking himself for looking back and risking being recognised. His socked feet slid on the wooden floors and he slipped, momentum carrying him forward so that he barrelled through the library door, the books flying into the opposite wall and his body thudding into them the second after. He pushed off the wall and struggled to gain traction, nearly forgetting the books in his haste, half turned and spelled then again before sprinted back towards the dungeons.

He thought he lost Filch after the first floor, but sheer terror kept him at top speed until he finally burst into the Slytherin common room, panting and sweating, and collapsed into a chair. It took him a few moments after that before his mind settled into being able to think again and he opened his eyes.

The books were on the floor, a little worse for wear after the rough treatment he given them, but nevertheless very real and solid. And his. He had stolen them.

He smiled at his achievement. Then laughed. Then positively whooped with joy. He had done it! This, this was the first step. He struggled to contain his exuberance as he crept down the stairs to the dormitory, but continued sniggering even as he got into bed and stashed the books under his pillow. He fell asleep still grinning.

The next day Severus woke up with the decision to find Avery and Mulciber having fully formed in his mind overnight.

He bounded down to the Common Room, expecting them to be in their usual corner, but found them annoyingly absent. They were missing, too, from breakfast. Severus was shovelling down porridge with one eye on the entrance to the Great Hall in case they should appear, when Dumbledore himself stood up at the Staff Table. The school body fell abruptly silent as he began to speak.

"It is with very great regret that I must inform you all that last night a student was seen taking books from the restricted section of the library. I need not remind you that those books are kept there due to their dubious, Dark, and often immoral content and for that reason only the students we consider to be most responsible and mature are permitted to read them. Should any of you have any information on this matter please report it to your Head of House."

Severus felt his heartbeat jolt and quicken at the announcement, and yet a tension he had not previously been aware of seemed to ease in his stomach. Filch must not have gotten a good look at him. He was safe.

He didn't see Avery and Mulciber until his very last lesson of the day, when he finally spotted them heading towards the Charms rooms.

"Avery!" he called. The taller of the two looked around with some irritation. Severus strode up to them, but before he could speak the stockier of the two, Mulciber, demanded:

"Who're you?"

"Snape. Severus Snape. I'm in Third Year, and I –"

"Ohh, we know _you_ ," sneered Avery. "You're the one they always joke about in the common room. Never look up from your books, do you? Never out the library, are you? Have you even got any friends?"

"No," said Severus tersely. "I don't suffer fools gladly." He opened his mouth to continue, but Avery interrupted;

"Yeah, well, neither do we, so if you _don't_ mind..."

They made to leave, but Severus called out: "Malfoy told me – Malfoy told me to talk to you."

As one the boys whipped back around to face their younger peer. Mulciber wore an ugly, almost affronted look on his face, whereas Avery only managed to look shocked. Composing himself, Mulciber grabbed Severus by the elbow and steered him behind a statue.

"What you yelling crap like that for, eh? Where anybody could bleedin' well hear? What did he tell you?"

Severus almost rose to anger at being manhandled by this oaf, but instead kept his voice calm and said: "That there are bigger and better things outside Hogwarts. That there are forces operating to cleanse the world. That and a damn sight more besides."

" _You_?" sneered Avery. "You must've been eavesdropping, you little sneak."

"No way Lucius'd pick out a scrawny little runt like you..."

"How _dare_ you!" He wrenched his arm from Mulciber's slackened grip. "You doubt he'd pick out _me_? What surprises me much more is that he thought to give me the names of two dunderheaded morons rather than someone with half a brain between them!"

"Now listen – !" began Avery in a roar-whisper.

"No, you listen!" yelled back Severus, "Malfoy chose me – _chose_ me, do you hear? On orders from the Dark Lord himself to find someone useful at Hogwarts, to carry on his job by finding those with strength and ambition –" He was propelled more by vindictive anger than by sense, but judging by the vaguely awed looks on their faces he was making an impression. "To better myself by learning the Dark Arts so that I might join the Death Eaters and help carry out their grand scheme! And so far all I've got is you two brainless buffoons!"

"Look, we had no idea –" stuttered Avery, stepping back from Severus and looking nothing short of appalled.

"I don't care! Just – leave me alone, will you."

They scarpered, only too glad to escape from Severus's towering temper. He groaned, furious with himself and feeling thwarted and wrong-footed. Weren't they supposed to be Death Eater's sons, ambitious and powerful, like him.

_Lucius,_ (it felt almost daring to address a letter using a Christian name).

_Avery and Mulciber are two of the thickest fools I have ever had the very great displeasure of meeting. They have barely a brain between them, let alone vision or cunning. They are no more than small-time bullies. How am I to find anyone else when this is all you've given me to work with?_

_S. Snape_

He scrawled his name with a feeling of self-entitled venom. Seeing his anger translated onto paper made him feel immeasurably better and, with a feeling of confidence that Lucius would respond with words of advice, encouragement, and a viable plan, he went straight to the Owlery to send the letter off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Severus went down to breakfast the next morning to find all four houses abuzz with news of the book thief, fact now indistinguishable from fiction in true Hogwarts fashion. He felt a little smug being above it all.

About halfway through his pancakes the post arrived and Severus was surprised to see that, after an entire summer's radio silence, Lucius had responded immediately. The owl landed in front of him and Severus eagerly pulled the parchment from its legs.

_Severus,_

_Do not make me think that I have overestimated you. Such people are far more powerful with a leader than without. Just as you are far more powerful with followers than without._

_Use them._

_Lucius_

Severus's heart jumped a little as he reread the words, but it came with a growing realisation of how foolish he had been. What had he expected, for Lucius to ride back to Hogwarts post-haste and... and what? Save him? Lucius had chosen him, Severus, precisely because he was resourceful. Intelligent. Anyone could see that – Lucius had seen it instantly. No, he had everything he was ever going to have, and now he had to use it.

He spied out Avery and Mulciber at the other end of the table, and got up as soon as they did. They reached the door at the same time and he called them over. They came quietly this time – no backchat, no questions. They waited for Severus to speak.

"I am not going to tell you that I am sorry for insulting you yesterday because I am not. Even you two must at least be intelligent enough to realise how thick you are."

The two boys were both significantly taller than Severus, Avery in particular, and both older by a year. They had no reason to listen to him at all. And yet they stood silent and cowed, like spanked children. Severus almost smiled.

"But Lucius was right to tell me about you, because I think we can set up a mutually beneficial relationship here." He paused at their blank expressions and rephrased. "I mean I think we can help each other. You two spend a lot of time together. People don't bother you, but they don't respect you either. You don't deserve that. Your fathers are Death Eaters. You were born into an inheritance – you have been chosen to join the ranks of the Dark Lord, and you deserve better than indifference. You deserve to be listened to. You _deserve_ respect."

He knew that Avery and Mulciber were small-minded, crude, and unintelligent – that of course nobody would listen to them, bow to them. And he suspected that they knew it too, in their own way. But respect was a cruel thing to live without, and they swelled under his praise and vision. The words were real and living between them, and Severus understood the power of having followers.

"And I deserve respect, too. Because I, like you, have been chosen. Divided, who obeys us? Who listens? Who respects us? Nobody. But together? You and I needn't be ignored any longer."

"What do we need to do?"

"Stick with me," said Severus.

The new friendship between a third year loner and the two unpopular fourth years did not go unnoticed in Slytherin House. Particularly when they chose a new spot for themselves in the Slytherin Common room.

There was only one proper sofa to be found in the common room, the rest of the room was populated by wing-backed chairs. Naturally its exclusivity lent it desirability, meaning that with the exception of Hogsmeade weekends younger years were always bullied out by older students. Last year it had been most commonly occupied by Lucius Malfoy and his lackeys and girlfriends. This year it had naturally passed down to the seventh years who succeeded him as student heads of house – those with the most clout when it came to in-house politics. When they weren't about, the Sixth Years would take their chance, and so on.

Within minutes of their sitting down on that first evening on their new alliance, a hulking Fifth Year turned up. Severus had settled on the end of the sofa by the desk with a potions book, Avery and Mulciber sitting on the end nearer the fire and arguing about Quidditch.

"Oi. Out," grunted the older boy. Not maliciously, but with a tone of entitlement that did not expect disobeyal.

"Lucius left this place to me," replied Severus, not looking up from his books.

The name-dropping had an impact, but not a large one.

"I bet he did, now shove it."

"I don't think you'd want any quarrel with him."

The Fifth Year seemed to realise that Severus wasn't going to back down, and focused his attention properly on the conversation.

"Listen, kid, I don't know what ideas you've suddenly gotten into your little head," he rumbled, "but you're moving in five or getting a stinging hex up the arse."

"...Or his master."

"What was that?"

Severus finally pulled his eyes away from his books and looked the older boy steadily in the eye.

"I said you wouldn't want any quarrel with Lucius. Or with his master."

"You mean–"

Severus stood up, and Avery and Mulciber followed suit. With them behind him he felt a confidence and power he had never known before. An entitlement. He became aware that half the common room were now watching the interchange. Let them watch.

"You know who I mean."

The Fifth Year drew his wand and made to point it at Severus when a voice cut across the silence.

"I wouldn't."

Severus and the Fifth Year looked to the new speaker – a tall, spidery Sixth Year with dark hair the colour of rust. Augustus Rookwood. One of those who had been friendly with Lucius before he had left. The Fifth Year knew enough not to press any further. He knew Rookwood's reputation, as he had known Lucius's.

Part of the respect Lucius had commanded had been because of his imperious nature and easy confidence, but though the younger years probably thought this was simply because of his upbringing and status as Prefect and Hottest-Thing-On-Two-Legs, everyone above a certain age knew that the foundations of that confidence lay elsewhere; in that secret club that every Slytherin became aware of. Some had joined him and some had kept away, but everyone knew better than to make trouble.

The silence stretched between their eyes just a moment longer, then the Fifth Year grunted something unintelligible and left. Rookwood gave Severus a nod from across the common room, and walked away.

This incident had a subtle but noticeable effect through Slytherin house. For one thing, Severus, Avery and Mulciber were allowed their new spot (whenever Rookwood or another upcoming Death Eater didn't want it). But much more importantly, though they were still left entirely alone, it was in a different way from before. Now it wasn't that they weren't worth bothering with, but that they were a dangerous unknown quantity. Clearly Severus wasn't filling Lucius's shoes just yet – he was still on the lower echelons of this movement he had joined, but Rookwood had vouched for him and everyone now knew it would come, in time.

One night not so long after claiming his new, invisible role, Severus stopped in the middle of an Astronomy essay and decided, quite spontaneously, to pen a letter to Lucius.

_Lucius,_ he began.

_I feel ashamedly foolish every time I think of the letter that I wrote to you. I see now what I was supposed to do. Avery and Mulciber are stupid, but at least they are smart enough to be loyal. Thank you for believing in me._

_Yours,_

_Severus_

He owled it the next morning and felt a strange sense of anticipation as he watched the elegant creature swoop into the grey dawn.

Lucius's owl returned a few days later with a precious line of praise. But there was something new, too – a curious symbol drawn under the signature. It was shaped like a skull with a serpent looped through it, emerging from the mouth like a tongue. Severus wrote back asking about it, but Lucius responded cryptically. He would know soon enough. Perhaps not soon enough for the impatience of youth, but certainly eventually. Alongside this irritating non-answer was a question as to how Severus was finding the books on the Dark Arts.

Fortunately with no leads regarding the thief the missing books were quickly forgotten about and Severus felt quite safe in reading them in the common room with only the precaution of putting dustjackets from old text books on all of them. He glanced through 'On the Blackest Arts' and found it impenetrably difficult. Though he had long since read all of the set texts for third year and some for fourth year as well, much of the magic referred to in the book was completely foreign to him, and used a number of ancient runes that he could not understand at all. The book was also incredibly old, and the tightly-printed text wasn't helping his attempt to understand the dense style. Faced with these difficulties he allowed time to drag on and it was nearing December before he responded to Lucius. He received a terse letter that said only: _Try harder._

The Christmas holidays approached in a fever of excitement for the school body, most of whom were going home to spend time with their families. For Severus, however, the time of year was exciting only because it allowed unparallelled access to the library, a great deal of quiet and, perhaps most importantly, time. He bade goodbye to Avery and Mulciber on the last day of school and, that very evening, sat down in the library for some serious study.

Confident that Madame Pince would not be overzealous in monitoring the library over the holidays, he laid out the Dark books on the table. Beside them on one side he piled up a series of magical reference books – ancient runes dictionaries, advanced transfiguration, magical theory textbooks and Defence books from the OWL shelves. At first he found himself unable to read a full sentence without looking up something in some book or another. As Christmas itself came and went, however (not receiving presents nor felicitations, he made little note of it), he found himself beginning to understand.

He was amazed to find that these books – filled with spells that had truly violent, painful, and gruesome effects – explained magic to him in a more comprehensive way than any of his teachers had ever done. The real _nature_ of magic. He read about the meaning of Light and Dark and how it applied to magic. Whether a spell was 'light' or 'dark' depended largely on intent. However, so the books claimed, some magic was inherently Dark. This magic could not be performed in good will, and therefore required nothing but the 'deepest evile' from the caster to well up and burst through their wand.

But that couldn't possibly be right, could it? Because there was no Light or Dark. There was only power. And those too weak to seize it. And indeed, the more he read, the more obvious this was. The book was sadly limited in scope. Though a spell might be inherently evil at the time of casting, if it was part of the fabric of a greater, good purpose... surely it could be nothing but good?

These thoughts ran through Severus's head as he read and read and delved deeper into the study of Dark Magic.

The Christmas holidays drew to a close and Severus had tried only a handful of Dark spells, and even those had been somewhat feeble. However, he did find one that he could perform with some proficiency, and this was particularly lucky as he even had a use for it. Late on the last night before school started again he penned a new letter to Lucius, but this one with a difference.

" _Scripta Sanguinis"_ , he muttered, waving his wand over the piece of parchment. He then began to speak, watching as his words materialised on the paper – crimson against stark white.

_Lucius,_

_This is what I have learned so far. But I will keep learning until I could kill you with a spell._

_Sever_

His strength failed him as he reached his name. The vicious sense of accomplishment had been insufficient to maintain the spell. He could feel the space in his arteries where the blood had been. He signed his name in ink over his own blood, watching as the two liquids merged in the fibres of the parchment, and smiled a savage smile.

His studies – both of the school curriculum and of his own personal curriculum, carried on throughout his third year, as did his letters to Lucius.

Lucius never disclosed anything of his own activities, but regularly asked Severus how he was doing, and continued to sign his letters with the skull and snake. They wrote infrequently but Severus found himself looking forward to the sparse communication, often telling Lucius when he mastered a new spell or observed his housemates in the common room. He was surprised to find that Lucius was unconcerned by the fact that Severus had not 'recruited' anyone yet. _They will come. You need only wait._

Though he often wrote about the respect he now had within his own house, it was many months before he told Lucius that Potter and Black still jinxed him at every opportunity they got. Though Avery and Mulciber offered some protection at lunchtime, he was alone during class. Potions, Charms, and Herbology were all shared with the Gryffindors. The other Slytherins might respect him now, but they had no loyalty towards him, and he was simply no match for both his nemeses together.

Lucius's reply to that was surprising. Though Severus had written to him in hope born largely of desperation, the response he received was comforting:

_Patience. School is not always easy. Others will not always understand. Such is the path you have chosen. But you know that school is not forever. And time will pass, faster than you think. Learn. Believe. Your time will come, and we will be waiting for you._

Severus kept that letter in his pocket for a long, long time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The summer after his third year was a special kind of hell which, through its unending pain, led to Severus's greatest discovery.

His mother was alone when she picked him up at King's Cross. She was sporting a lurid bruise on her cheek. He looked at her for the first time in almost a year and felt something wavering between pity and shame. He didn't even know if she owned a wand any more.

They said little during the car ride home. When they arrived Severus took his suitcase straight up to his bedroom and stayed there, staring at the ceiling.

The first time he went downstairs was out of necessity. He had skipped dinner for two days in a row and knew that it couldn't carry on. He walked quietly into their tiny little kitchen-dinette and saw his father again.

The man's beard was longer and stragglier than Severus remembered, but his eyes were as bloodshot, his clothes as unkempt, and he looked as angry as ever. Later, Severus wasn't even sure was had prompted the fight. He was just finishing his mashed potato, not listening, when his father stood up. His mother stood up too, and there was a frozen moment where they both stood – his fists balled by his sides, her holding her arms out. As if to reach for her husband.

Before Severus knew it he was on the floor, feeling exactly as he had when he was ten, eight, six years old. Both parents screaming. His father raised a fist, and Severus closed his eyes. Blocked his mind from the world until he couldn't hear them, see them, feel them... until they weren't there.

After a time he opened his eyes and found the kitchen empty, as he had known he would. His mashed potatoes had been cleared away in his 'absence'. The only thing that made this scene different from his younger days was that his eyes were dry. He didn't have any thoughts about that. The next night, his father elected to go to the pub instead.

Severus was stretched out on his back in the dim light of his room, duvet scrunched up underneath him. He had no sense of what time it could be and little desire to find out.

It was unbearable.

To go from Hogwarts to this squalor. From four-posters to lumpy mattresses. From whatever wary respect he had earned to being the dirt on someone's shoes. Even if he was still bullied and teased by Gryffindors, and still had no friends, he had something. And he was building it, and it would grow. But here... here he was a nothing.

A moth was orbiting the bare lightbulb. Going _plink_ with every collision.

And what was worse was that he could no longer write to Lucius. Only the owl knew how to find him, and it was at Hogwarts. Here Severus was entirely, totally, miserably _alone_.

_Plink, plink. Plink._

"Idiot," murmured Severus, raising his hand to squish it.

The creature was completely mindless, with no concept of the size of the world, or what Severus was, or its impending doom. It was acting on a deep-rooted instinct, one clearly inappropriate for the modern world. It just had no idea. Something about this gave Severus pause. He shooed it out the window instead.

He sat back down on the bed and pulled his bookbag out from under it. He clutched the Dark books to his chest like the talismans that they were. He had learned such a great deal from them. In fact the majority of the work he had been assigned last year had seemed laughably easy with the aid of the knowledge from these illicit texts. From these books he had mined true gems.

He wanted away from this place. Away from the constraints of dismal, muggle reality and back into the world of magic that he loved. He lay down and allowed his mind to drift in the eddies of of his understanding. Pools of knowledge into which he dipped, leaping out again when the requisite fact was obtained... The way potions were built up from their constituent parts. The way the words you spoke channelled your magic in the way that you willed.

He twirled his wand in his hand and considered this. The words you said contained the magic, but only because you chose for them to do so, and only because you had magic. Without the intent and without the magic, the words meant nothing and did nothing.

But the words did have power, because power was ascribed to them. Human minds were built on language, and worked on language. Not just any words would do for a particular spell, irrespective of the will behind them.

His eyes widened a little.

But if you found the words that would work, you could invent an entirely new type of spell.

Severus sat up and pulled another few books out of his bag. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Four. He pored over the pages of spells, at the words of the spells, at what they did, at the meanings of them, and realised. He could do this. Why couldn't he do it? Each year the Ministry published a list of new, officially sanctioned spells. They had to come from somewhere.

He wracked his brains for an idea to try. He looked down at the Dark books and remembered when he had originally stolen them. What a long time ago that seemed now. But the memory gave him the germ of an idea.

 _Wingardium Leviosa_. The spell he had cast when the books had tumbled to floor. Such a clunky, imprecise spell. It was designed to make objects float, of course, but being a catchall charm it was often not very effective. A spell specific to books would have worked much better. Book, fly. Raise books. Why just books? You could make to make anything float – a quill, a suitcase, even a person...

He scritched in the margin of his Potions book as ideas came to him. He muttered the words, trying out their sounds and meanings.

He raised his wand and tried a few, then set it down after each failed result. He wasn't afraid of casting magic here. Though the Trace was still on him, there was after all a registered witch living at this address. She would be expected to control any magic he performed. What a joke.

"Libri Levi!"

No, no, no...

" _Levilibri."_

He only muttered it under his breath, didn't even have his wand in hand, but he _felt_ the book twitch under his hand.

His heart quickened just a little as he picked up his wand and uttered more clearly: " _Levilibri."_

The book rose gracefully into the air, then dropped as Severus's surprise made him lose concentration.

One more time.

" _Levilibri!"_

The books flew into the air, easily and perfectly. Severus found himself grinning wide, happier than he could have imagined being all Summer.

He couldn't wait to tell Lucius.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Severus watched the Sorting with interest.

He watched it every year, of course, but this year, the beginning of his fourth year, he paid more attention than usual. He was looking for potential.

Babbage, Harold was the first new Slytherin of the year. He was built in the same mould as Crabbe and Goyle had been – large about the stomach, but undoubtedly strong. Piggy little eyes. Possbly, possibly. Burbling, Claus. Dillage, Derrentia. A litany of names, a procession of children, Slytherins interspersed between them.

Kleek, Julia seemed a little weedy. She was shaking with nerves. But Severus hadn't been so different during his Sorting, years ago. He found it difficult to remember how it had _really_ felt. So much had changed.

Lestrange, Rodolphus was the next up and he too was sorted into Slytherin. He was slight, but seemed oddly confident, holding his head high. That was interesting.

By the time the Sorting was over Severus felt there were a few promising children in this year's stock. He would have to follow their progress, as well as watch the Third and Second years more closely. He knew he must have been one of the youngest recruited before Lucius left, and he didn't know if Rookwood was talking to the younger years. Perhaps that was his responsibility.

He wondered, suddenly, if Rookwood was in contact with Lucius too. Or with some other student who had gone on to join the Death Eaters. It seemed logical – how else could the operation be organised – but Severus found the notion oddly unsettling.

The feast ended and he shook it from his mind, then went straight to the Owlery to tell Lucius about his summer and the spells he had invented.

It was a few weeks into the school year and very little of interest had happened. Severus stayed up late most nights; studying, reading, dreaming up new spells. Sometimes Avery and Mulciber sat with him in the common room, on the other end of the sofa. They told him what they knew of their fathers' activities. By the sounds of it neither of them had seen their fathers much, but they reported that Avery and Mulciber Sr. had both been particularly busy over this past summer. Severus took this as a sign that The Dark Lord was doing something, planning something... Perhaps soon there would be action.

On one particular October evening Severus entered the common room to find Avery and Mulciber torturing a mouse.

This wasn't entirely surprising – once they had spent an entire afternoon with a stag beetle. Poking it and prodding it until it died. And they had regularly laughed at him for trying to shoo away flies rather than just squashing them. Eventually he gave up and shot them down with his wand. It was easier anyway, he told himself. But this was the first time he had seem them with a vertebrate, not counting the First and Second Years they teased and occasionally beat up. That wasn't torture, after all. That was life.

It was a small grey thing. A proper castle mouse, with twitching whiskers and a long pink tail. A tail by which Avery was holding it aloft, laughing as Mulciber poked it with his wand. It was squeaking. The sound was a needle to the skull.

"What are you _doing_?" yelled Severus, swatting at Avery's hands and making him release the mouse in surprise. It immediately scurried out of sight.

"What the hell was that?" exclaimed Mulciber, a sentiment echoed by the look of confusion on Avery's face.

"I could ask the same of you," replied Severus in a low voice. His expression was thunderous and they seemed to think that further explanation was necessary.

"Look, we found it near the kitchens -"

"Yeah, some portrait is supposed to let you in, but we couldn't find it."

"But then we found the mouse -"

"I mean – I mean, they're only vermin anyway. It was only a bit of fun."

"You didn't hurt it, did you?"

They seemed genuinely perplexed by the question.

"It was only a mouse..."

Severus stared at them and realised that he could well have been talking to an entirely different species. To them, a mouse wasn't worth considering. It wasn't even alive. It was just –

He didn't want to draw attention by shouting in the common room.

"Just don't – don't do that."

They looked perhaps a little abashed, but not overmuch. He knew it was only a matter of time before he found them at it again – maybe a rat next time. Or somebody's cat. He sat down on his end of the sofa and tried to forget about it. They were animals, after all. Only... only animals.

He stopped thinking about it fairly quickly. He had just come up with a good idea for a new spell. Something to allow you to hold a private conversation in public...

The evening wore on and Severus was growing somewhat frustrated. The spell was harder to work out than he had expected. Getting the right combination of ideas... And then he had to keep sending Mulciber across the room to test it.

_Silencio_ , obviously, was already a spell, and no variant on 'silence' that he tried seemed to work. Then he tried variations of the theme of 'privacy' and 'conversation'... nothing doing. He thought the idea of 'muffled' had some potential, though. Not making your conversation silent, just making it... unnoticeable. The idea drew him in, and he carried on scribbling down possible permutations and combinations.

After a while even Avery and Mulciber went to sleep. Severus bade them each a terse good night. Normally by this time he would have retired to his dormitory to continue working there, but he was so engrossed he didn't notice that he was the last one up. Finally, he was content with a few ideas to try in the morning. _Oratius fuscus, Fuscatio, Muffliato, Muffliando_... one of them could work. If not, he would have to try a completely different tack tomorrow.

The fireplace glowed dim and the lamps round the walls had gone out. Severus sat up from the hunched position he had been in for the last hour at least, and stretched his lean figure to its fullest extent, twisting to make his joints crack...

He was being watched.

He jumped off the sofa and whipped round – there, a figure turning to run back down the stairs – " _Locomotor Mortis!_ "

Severus's retaliatory instincts were well honed. The curse hit true and the victim – Severus could see now that it was a boy – stumbled on the steps to the dormitories before falling flat on his arse.

"S-sorry!" gasped the boy as he fell.

Severus drew closer and saw that it was Lestrange. The boy looked up at him with a hurt expression.

"What were you doing?" demanded Severus sharply.

"I had a nightmare..."

Severus knew about nightmares. He performed the counter-curse and helped the boy to his feet.

"I've had some experiences being hexed from behind, so I'm afraid I acted without thinking. I hope you didn't fall too hard. You're Lestrange, aren't you?"

"Who's asking?" replied Lestrange suspiciously.

"I would've thought you knew who I am."

"...Yeah. Snape. You're like Rookwood. They say he does Dark Magic. And..." The boy tailed off. his expression closing as he realised he had said too much. Strange how the darkness draws our secrets from us.

"And what else do they say?"

"I don't know," mumbled the boy, as Severus slowly walked them back towards the couch. "They won't tell me. Just something about how he's important and we shouldn't get in his way or whatever. But he's never told me to do anything, so I don't know."

Each time he stopped talking, he set his lips as though daring to be disagreed with. He was smaller than Severus had been at that age, but bolder. Severus had never seen Lestrange talking to any friends in particular, though he seemed to rarely be in the common room. Perhaps he sat alone somewhere. As Severus once had.

"Tell me, Rodolphus... What do you know of Dark Magic?"

The boy's eyes widened and he paused on the edge of speaking – the dim green light from the lake reflecting in his irises.

"My uncle – My father says he... He does things sometimes. For –"

The whisper of something beyond, something forbidden. Severus wondered if he was seeing too much in himself in this child. Perhaps he wanted to see it. But then he remembered. He remembered the way the sun had shone from beyond the fields into the tiny train compartment in which his life was changing. The hesitancy. He knew, now, how it was to be.

"I am going to tell you something, Rodolphus, that you have always wanted to hear, even though you didn't know it yet. I am going to tell you about the way the world is, and the choices you must make, the things –"

"This better not get me in trouble, Snape!"

Such magnificent defiance, and from one so young. There was a strong will there.

Severus smiled gently. "No, you won't get in trouble. I'm just going to tell you. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. And please," he added, in the dark tones of secrecy to this lonely boy-child, in the witching hours of the night... "Call me Severus."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up. Life got in the way, as it often does. Unfortunately the next chapter may also be a while, but after that updates should progress regularly until the story is finished, fingers crossed!
> 
> As always, I hope you are all enjoying the story so far. Things are about to start moving a bit faster, and Severus and Lucius will be reunited before you know it, I promise. And if you have read this far, I would love if you could leave a review and let me know what you think of the story :)
> 
> Until next time!


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